


Fuck Hawaii and Fuck Him, Too

by WhyDoIWrite



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Also fuck airport policies, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Hawaii, I Love You, PDX - Freeform, Sometimes you need a little nudge, Why’d you wait so long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22124872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyDoIWrite/pseuds/WhyDoIWrite
Summary: Russell spurs Emily into action.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett, Soran - Relationship
Comments: 15
Kudos: 202





	Fuck Hawaii and Fuck Him, Too

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh... what could have been. An alternative to when Lindsey flew to Hawaii with Russell.

Sonnett sends a text to Lindsey. She knows she shouldn’t send it before she even taps her finger on the up arrow. Knows she shouldn’t be stalking Russell’s Instagram. Knows she should have unfollowed him a long time ago. After the Utah game, when he had so much shit to say about her. That would have been a good time. And, if Sonnett is being honest with herself, she never should have followed him on social media in the first place. But he was Lindsey’s boyfriend. And everyone else was following him and he was following everyone else so...

So... she shouldn’t have seen the damn picture Russell posted, of him with his arm around Lindsey, them smiling, cheeks pressed together, and his stupid caption about sending her money to pay for his extra legroom on the long flight. Seriously, fuck that guy. 

And now it’s too late.

 **Dasani** : you’re going to Hawaii? With _him_?

 **Linessi** : it’s a Rush thing. It’s work.

 **Dasani** : Fuck Hawaii.

Doesn’t look like work. Not to him.

Not to you either actually.

He looks like he thinks you’re his girl.

And what’s w/the Venmo shit again?

Did you pay for his damn trip?

When are we taking _our_ trip?

Also, you look beautiful, btw.

Sonnett knows she shouldn’t be like this, knows she’s coming off all possessive and jealous, when she has no right to be. She’s not, she says aloud to herself - possessive or jealous. And she tells herself, internally, that she just genuinely worries about Lindsey. And she genuinely hates Russell for how he’s made Lindsey feel, and how he’s treated her. And that Lindsey deserves so, _so_ much better. She wouldn’t act like this, wouldn’t send a crazy string of texts, if Lindsey were dating someone who treated her well. Someone who deserved her. Russell doesn’t deserve her. It’s not about Lindsey being with someone; it’s about _that_ guy.

Lindsey’s sitting in the airport, waiting to board her flight. Sonnett’s texts cause her to exhale sharply. Except for the last one. That one makes her crack a smile. Maybe she blushes. But she doesn’t want to deal with this, doesn’t want to deal with Sonnett’s criticism and judgement. Deep down, she knows Sonnett is coming from a place of love, and she knows Sonnett is right, but... well, it doesn’t make hearing it any easier. Maybe it actually makes hearing the truth harder, Lindsey thinks. Besides, she can’t do this right now, not with Russell sitting right next to her.   
  
But he doesn’t ask about her obvious frustration, like a normal boyfriend would. Not that she wants him to, because she _doesn’t_ want to talk about it him either. Can’t, actually. Because he hates Sonnett. And that, Lindsey knows, comes from a place of insecurity. Still, it would nice if he could just toss a halfway concerned “what’s wrong, babe?” her way. You know, since he’s started referring to himself as her boyfriend again. Without even asking her.

And then he inexplicably gets up and walks away without a word, wandering down the terminal, as if Lindsey feeling any emotion, for any reason at all, annoys him. Lindsey watches him until he’s out of sight. Then she FaceTimes Sonnett.

”Son, I- ”

”I’m sorry, Linds,” she cuts in. “It’s just that, seriously, what are you doing with him? You said- ” Sonny looks so hurt. Her eyes are sad.

“I know what I said,” Lindsey says, trying not to sound exasperated so soon. “But we have a clinic. For the Rush.”

”That he happened to schedule in Hawaii. The most romantic place on Earth,” Sonnett says, unconvinced. 

”I thought that was the Cayman Islands. Where I’m going to go. With you,” Lindsey tries to smooth things over, tries to break the tension, with a reminded of that promise.

It does little to assuage Sonnett, probably because they’ve made zero concrete plans regarding this trip of a lifetime they’re supposed to take together. And probably because Sonnett sees the writing on the wall. If Lindsey and Russell are back together, there won’t be any trips. No visits to Denver or Atlanta in the off-season. No rooming together at camp. There won’t be anything at all. Just carefully calculated public interactions because Russell’s fragile ego can’t handle them looking too cute together. Or looking too cute _at_ each other.

The silence is loud as they stare at each other. Lindsey sees the desperation in Sonnett’s eyes. Sees her lips start to move as if she’s going to finally say something. 

And Lindsey _wants_ her to say something. Tries to use her eyes to _will_ Sonnett to say something. 

Because if Sonnett would just say it...

* * *

Lindsey has tried for two years to get Sonny to say it, since she realized that as their friendship deepened, her feelings for Sonny deepened. At first, she just thought she loved Sonny like a friend. A best friend. But the more time Lindsey spent thinking about it, the more she realized what she felt for Sonny wasn’t the same at all. The sleepovers, the cuddling, the handholding, all were borne out of Lindsey’s unexplained desire... no necessity... to be in physical contact, or at least close proximity, with Sonny as much as she could. It was never Sonnett. Sonnett never initiated anything, no matter how much Lindsey wished she would.

And that’s what has Lindsey so confused. She’s not blind; she sees how Sonny looks at her. 

She catches the glances sometimes, when she looks over her shoulder as she’s changing in the locker room and Sonnett is staring at her. Sonnett’s eyes dart away as fast as they can and Lindsey watches, watches as the flush creeps up her neck and into her cheeks, and Lindsey can’t help but think about how pretty Emily is with her cheeks burning like that, what a little color does for her. 

She misses other glances sometimes, like during the national anthem when they’re both starting. When Sonnett’s supposed to be focused, but she can’t stop herself from leaning just a tad bit forward to see Lindsey a couple of spots further down the line. And as Lindsey watches the replay of the game, she sees it. Sonny checking on her. Or maybe looking to her for reassurance.

Other times, when their bodies are too close, far closer together than they should be, she sees Sonny’s eyes dart to her lips. It’s so brief that it would be easy to miss, and it often makes Lindsey wonder how many times she _has_ missed the flickering of Emily’s eyes lower. But every time she does see it, her breath catches in her chest for so long it burns. 

And Lindsey knows she’s not crazy. She is well aware of how tense Sonnett gets - still - when Lindsey touches her. 

She feels it instantly when she slings her arm over Sonnett’s shoulders at practice and all Lindsey wants to do is move behind her and massage that tightness out, to show her it’s ok to relax. They’ve been friends for four years; Sonnett shouldn’t feel like this still. 

She feels how still Emily gets when she grabs her hand on the bus, as if every single time, Emily’s not prepared for it, and she freezes. The first few, ok maybe dozen, times Lindsey reached over and took Emily’s hand, Emily tried to pull away. Lindsey didn’t let her. If they were going to be bus buddies, Emily was just going to have to accept that it came with handholding. And she finally did. Now, Lindsey just waits for the initial moment of tension to pass from Emily’s body, and then Emily’s hand relaxes in hers and they’re fine the rest of the ride. Except for after that one time Lindsey slipped up in an interview and said that they hold hands on the bus and Emily tried to cover it up. Things were a little awkward for a while after that. But they’re ok now. 

And she feels it when she drags her hand across Sonny’s abs. That might be her favorite. When Sonny is making her eggs and Lindsey comes up behind her, rests her chin on Sonnett’s shoulder, digging in to her tight muscles until Sonnett squirms and giggles softly as she lets out a half-assed whiny “stop!” And then Lindsey wraps an arm around Sonnett’s waist as she watches her cook, and when she slowly removes her arm, letting her fingers trail, she hears Emily’s sharp intake of air, feels Emily’s stomach harden. It stirs something inside Lindsey in a way she can’t put into words. It makes her want to drop her fingers lower, to the hem of Emily’s shirt, and let them climb up under to glide over those ripples that have formed, to feel the goosebumps that she knows would follow, to bury her nose in Sonnett’s neck and nuzzle into her. 

Every muscle fiber in Lindsey’s body tells her that Emily and her are on the same page about their feelings for each other. And every synapse and neuron in her brain tells her she’s wrong. 

Lindsey has never been as affectionate with anyone as she has been with Sonny. She’s dropped the hints, she given all the signs and signals that she knows how to give. Short of telling Emily - and honestly, she _should_ be able to tell her best friend her deepest secret - or just grabbing Emily and kissing her, Lindsey doesn’t really know what else to do. 

Except wait. 

She’s been waiting a long time. 

Shes not going to do either - use her words or her hands and lips. Her brain won’t let her.

Her brain is telling her that all this is, is a friendship to Emily. Never mind the evidence that says otherwise, that Emily hasn’t gone on a second date with anyone since Lindsey met her. Like her perpetual singleness is just her waiting for Lindsey, except when Lindsey and Russell have broken up, it’s never spurred Emily into action. Counter-evidence, Lindsey’s brain tells her.

Her brain is telling her that she’s not good enough, that she doesn’t deserve Emily. Sweet, soft Emily. 

Emily who would be the most perfect girlfriend. 

Emily who would protect her. Honor her. Cherish her. Respect her. Love her with every ounce of love she has in her body.

Emily who would make sure Lindsey was ok if she let out a very obvious sigh. Who would probably make sure Lindsey was ok everyday. Make sure she’s smiling and laughing and that she knows she’s loved. Because little details matter to Emily.

Emily who would never break her heart because Lindsey is absolutely certain Emily would hold her up on such a high pedestal she’d never even think about another woman.

Emily who would never speak acrid words that would burn Lindsey’s soul, leaving another layer of impenetrable scar tissue. 

Emily who would cook for her and clean for her and treat Lindsey like a Queen even though Lindsey never did anything to earn that title.

And therein lies the crux of the issue. Lindsey feels unworthy. So she can’t be the one to take the chance. Not when two very influential men seemingly made it their missions to make sure she knew she would never be good enough.

That goddamn impenetrable scar tissue.

It’s just... it feels like if anyone could peel away those layers to expose the raw, but soft new skin underneath, it would be Emily. And Emily would heal Lindsey’s wounds with nothing but love. 

Because Emily stole her breath and stole her heart with that stupid joke about turtles that she told in the locker room before their first Thorns training. Lindsey’s sure that if she hadn’t been so goddamn self-centered at the youth national camp they went to years before, Emily would have stolen both before Russell’s presence in her life shifted from a professional one to a more romantic one.

Just another missed opportunity to have had a different life. A better life. Another thing Lindsey has gotten wrong, so caught up in the game that she missed the human that should have mattered more.

* * *

... Lindsey wouldn’t think twice about skipping out on this fucking trip.

“Em.” And it comes out sounding wistful. Lindsey _feels_ wistful, but she didn’t want it to _sound_ wistful. But that’s just what Emily does to her. She can’t hide. And she both hates it and she loves it.

”Don’t,” Emily says, her voice not more than a whisper. “Don’t. You love him, I guess. Even if I don’t understand why. Even if you deserve so much more than what he’ll ever give you.” The pain on her face is evident through the small phone screen. The furrowed brow. The eyes that are almost watery. The taut lips, that Lindsey thinks might be quivering. Barely.

”Em...” she starts again. But she can’t get the words out. Her mouth is so dry that she’s having to stifle a cough, one of those coughs that is so hacking it makes you feel like you’re going to vomit. Or maybe that’s just her nerves. It’s hard to tell. “Say it, Em.”

Emily blinks hard, pulling her face back away from the screen as her expression becomes unreadable. “Say what?” She sounds like she’s genuinely clueless.

”Say it,” is all Lindsey repeats. And then she adds, because she knows Emily’s not going to say anything without prompting, “Tell me what you’re thinking. What you’re _feeling_ right now.”

 _Fine_ , Emily thinks. _If she really wants to know_.... “Fuck Hawaii. And fuck Russell, too,” Emily says. And it’s not cruel, it actually sounds very neutral. But as Emily moves back closer to the screen, there’s fire in her eyes. She means exactly what she just said.

It’s not enough for Lindsey though. Because it’s not like this is the first time Emily has said a big “F you” in regards to Russell.

Lindsey swallows hard. She wishes Kelley was there with Emily to kick her in the ass and tell her to be brave. Or that Rose was sitting in the airport next to her to smack her upside the head and tell her to get over herself. But it’s only the two of them, neither ready or willing to be vulnerable. And now Russell is making his way back towards her with a cup of coffee. A single cup of coffee, his other hand completely empty. Lindsey can’t think of a time that Emily has shown up with only coffee for herself. 

It’s not about the coffee. Not even a little bit, even if it seems like it is. It’s the lack of consideration the man nearing her has for her, and the way the woman in front of her would bring her the world if she could carry it, that gives Lindsey the strength to try to meet Emily in the middle. Even if she’s still convinced that she doesn’t deserve anything that is good. 

”If you don’t want me to get on that plane, Em, you’re going to have to say it.” Lindsey knows she’s on the verge of tears. She can hear the scratchiness in her own voice and she can feel the dampness in the corners of her eyes. She wonders if Emily can see and hear both across the distance.

Emily looks taken aback, like that was never even a possibility. 

”You’re going to have to say it now,” Lindsey rushes out, “He’s almost back.” 

Silence. 

“Shit, Em. I’m just going to call you.” Lindsey ends their FaceTime connection and calls Emily back. She’s half expecting Emily to not answer. But she does. Right as Russell stops in front of her, grabbing his bags. 

”They’re already pre-boarding,” he chastises her. “What are you doing?” His face is a mixture of annoyance and anger even if he’s trying to hide both in his words because he’s in public. 

“My agent,” Lindsey mumbles as an excuse. “I have to take this.” Now she fully expects Sonny to hang up, if nothing else because Emily _hates_ lying. But there’s no click. She fully expects Russell to demand that she take her phone out of her pocket so he can see who she’s actually talking to, since her AirPods leave him with no proof.

Russell rolls his eyes. “Hurry up. Tell him we’re boarding.”

”Hang on,” she says to Emily. “Go. I’ll be there in a minute. We already have assigned seats. It’ll be fine.”

”They’re going to run out of overhead compartment space and make you check your bag,” he grumbles. But he walks away. And Lindsey feels like she can breathe again. 

”Tell me not to get on that plane and I won’t,” she says softly. 

“I think you should do what you want,” Emily replies, stiffly.

Of course that’s the non-committal bullshit she’s going to say. Lindsey doesn’t know why she would expect anything different today after years of this. It’s not like being in an airport is going to change anything. It’s not like Emily’s losing her. Lindsey’s going to Hawaii. For vacation. She’s coming back. “You know what I want, Emily. Deep down, you know. But you have to say it. Em just say it.” The fervor in Lindsey’s voice is rising. They’re on boarding group 9. And while she’ll be back in a week, it all feels different this time. Like if she gets on the plane and goes to Hawaii with Russell, something’s going to change between her and Emily, something that feels like it won’t ever be fixed, won’t ever go back to normal. This moment seems critical, and the seconds are ticking away.

”Why? Why do I have to say it? This is stupid,” Emily says, and it’s cuts a little. 

”Please,” Lindsey begs in a whisper. “I _need_ you to say it.”

It’s something about the word need that changes something in Emily. When Lindsey needs her, she can’t say no. Never has been able to. Not when Lindsey’s needed her because she’d been sick or needed her because of another break up with Russell. Not when Lindsey needed her after her concussion. Not when Lindsey needed her to show her how to use the goddamn broil feature on her oven that she didn’t even know existed. And not when Lindsey needed her after being benched for the World Cup final, even though she never actually said the words. Emily just knew. 

“I- I- I- don’t want you to get on that plane,” Emily stammers. Her voice is so small over the line. 

Lindsey just wants to see Emily’s face again. There’s not time for that. ”Why?” And that should have been enough, Emily telling Lindsey not to get on the plane. It was supposed to be enough. It took a lot out of Emily to say it. But once it was said, Lindsey realizes it’s still not enough. Because her brain is telling her that maybe Emily doesn’t want her to get on the plane because she knows Russell is bad for Lindsey. Maybe it has nothing to do with Emily feeling what Lindsey feels. So Lindsey _needs_ to know why. 

There’s silence on the line, and it makes the final boarding call over the intercom sound even more deafening. “Why, Em? Why don’t you want me to get on that plane?”

Emily sighs and Lindsey can picture what she’s doing right now. She’s running her hand through her hair, and she’s going to rub her face in her hands. Then, she'll chew on the cuticles on her thumb. She’s nervous, Lindsey knows, like she always is. They don’t have to be in the same room for Emily to be nervous. “I just don’t,” she mutters. “I just don’t. I want you to... I want you to come home.”

Still not enough to make Lindsey know without a doubt, that they want the same thing.   
  
“Now paging flight 3847 passenger Lindsey Horan. This is a final boarding call. The gate is about to close. Please make your way to gate 7A.” 

“Why do you want me to come home?” she asks almost in a panic. Because if Emily’s not sure then Lindsey’s not sure and Lindsey’s just going to get on her flight and go to Hawaii as if nothing is wrong. It seems like a better choice than not going and losing both Russell and Emily. Because the only thing that she thinks can make her feel worse, feel even more unworthy than Russell makes her feel, is being alone. Having no one to love her is the ultimate worst thing she can imagine. Crappy Russell is preferable to being alone. Alone means no one wants her.

”Fuck,” Emily shouts, and it’s loud in Lindsey’s ear. “Why do you always want more from me? Why am I never enough? I did what you wanted. I told you I want you to come back to Portland. Not even Denver. Home. Portland. I told you not to get on the plane. Fuck, Lindsey, I miss you and I- I- well I don’t need you, I know I don’t, but like...”

Emily’s interrupted by Lindsey talking to someone. “Yes, that’s my flight. Yes, he’s on the plane.” And then more frantically, “No, I’m not ready to board, give me a minute.”

It’s her last chance. “You _are_ enough, Em. You’ve _always_ been enough. Say it. Please. If you... just tell me you...”

”I love you,” Emily interrupts, unable to stop herself. No matter how much she doesn’t want to say it. Doesn’t want to be rejected. Doesn’t want to lose their friendship.

She’s had years to say it, and she has resisted, refused, bitten her tongue until it’s bled. Because Lindsey is straight and Lindsey has a boyfriend, and even if he is shitty, Emily’s not a home wrecker. Because Lindsey is too beautiful for her and too good for her. Because Lindsey is a star and Emily, well Emily doesn’t understand how she even made it back onto the roster. And she’s certain she won’t be on the roster when it really matters this next time. 

* * *

She had resisted saying those words for so, so long. 

When Lindsey was running her fingers though Emily’s hair and Emily thought that felt so ridiculously better than any time she had ever had sex with anyone.

When Lindsey would fall asleep in her bed and wake up with their limbs tangled and faces too close and Emily’s stomach burned with a desire to feel Lindsey’s soft lips against hers.

When she went to Denver to visit Lindsey and her family and she slept cuddled with Lindsey in that small, twin sized bed that they didn’t fit in, because Lindsey didn’t want her to sleep in the guest bedroom. And Lindsey’s hand ended up on the bare skin beneath Emily’s hiked up shirt, and then migrated to her back, pulled her closer under the guise of keeping her from falling off the bed, ran her nails over Emily’s skin until goosebumps covered every inch of Emily’s bare skin.

When Lindsey was drunk and Emily swore Lindsey mumbled those exact words against Emily’s neck in the bathroom at a bar as she steadied herself. Because what you do and say when you’re drunk doesn’t count.

* * *

So why she can’t stop the words from flying out of her mouth when they’re on the phone with each other, Emily doesn’t know. She can’t even begin to fathom the way she’s fucked up their friendship now, because Lindsey hasn’t said a thing back to her. Her eyes are hot with tears. Her ears burn red with embarrassment. She wants to crawl into a hole and... well, never make another roster again because how will she ever look Lindsey in the eyes? Now Lindsey’s going to be running through all of their interactions from the past four years and replaying them from the new perspective of knowing Emily was in love with her the whole time. It’s humiliating. Emily can’t think of anything more humiliating. Except maybe Lindsey realizing that Emily’s actually been in love with her for a hell of a lot longer than that - since their first youth national team camp. 

”I’m not getting on the plane!” Lindsey’s voice is distant, but loudly insistent. “I don’t care what your policy is. If you think I’m a terrorist, then take my bags off.” There’s a long pause. “I understand the plane can’t take off if my bags are on it and I’m not. I understand it’s your policy. I understand _why_ it’s your policy. But you’re going to have to get my bags off, because I’m NOT getting on.” Lindsey’s voice is not quite as loud now. It’s still insistent, but it’s more appropriate for a public setting, at least.

And then it registers with Sonnett what Lindsey’s saying. She’s not getting on the plane. She’s not going to fucking Hawaii with fucking Russell. She’s not mad. If she were mad at Emily, she’d be getting on the plane. But she’s telling some airline dude she’s _not_ getting on the plane. 

”Look, I’m sorry this is delaying your flight. But I don’t care what happens to this ticket, or my luggage for that matter. I just booked a flight to Portland and it leaves in 55 minutes. Give me my luggage or transfer it to that plane or whatever you want, but I’m not missing that flight even if I have to go without my luggage. She loves me. I’m going to her.”

It registers with Emily what Lindsey is saying at the same time Lindsey realizes she’s been talking to this airline employee and hasn’t said it back. What the fuck? She has literally fucked up _their first moment_. 

”Emily.” Lindsey’s voice is smaller than normal, but clear, like she’s back, like she’s right there with Emily. “Emily, I love you, too. So much.” Her phone has been vibrating non-stop and she knows it’s Russell. She knows that she’s about to have 47 unread texts that start innocuously with a “Where are you, honey?” and end with a “Piss off, bitch. You’ll regret this. You won’t be able to find anyone as good as me.” Or something similar. And for the first time, Lindsey realizes she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care to read them, to text him back, to apologize. She doesn’t even care to explain herself, to tell him that it’s actually really over this time because she is in love and because she has found someone who, if she pays attention, will teach her how to love herself, not make her hate herself more everyday. She knows if she can learn to see herself the way Emily sees her, everything else will fall into place. “I’m coming home to you. I may not have any clothes, so you’re going to have to let me wear yours, but I’ll be there with you, not him, tonight.”

”Too tall,” Emily chokes out through tears. And then she steadies herself. “My shorts will be too short on you.”

”Shut up, you’ll _love_ that!”

And Emily laughs. Because she _will_ love that. 


End file.
